Merry, Happy, Joyful
by ellembee
Summary: Peeta is having a terrible holiday season, and Finnick's attempts to cheer him up (and get him drunk) the day before Christmas Eve aren't helping. When a beautiful girl walks into the bar, Peeta thinks things might finally be looking up. Too bad it's only going to get worse. Modern AU. Written for the Prompts in Panem Holiday Challenge 2014
1. Chapter 1

As Peeta downed the rest of his drink, the first notes of Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas is You" filled the air. He groaned and looked over his shoulder. A group of college students huddled around the digital jukebox, pumping in dollar after dollar. Great. They'd be stuck with Christmas songs until last call.

It was bad enough that the place was decorated top to bottom for the holidays. Strings of white lights lined the bar top, mistletoe hung from every entryway, and a Christmas tree was tucked into a back corner. Annie, the owner's daughter, had collected empty miniature bottles of liquor and turned them into ornaments. A beer stein served as the angel.

Christmas had always been Peeta's favorite holiday, but this year everything was going wrong, and he wasn't in the mood. He'd just as soon skip the entire holiday season. He'd be home in bed right now if Finnick hadn't kept texting him every five minutes with sad face and Santa hat emojis.

"'Tis the season," Finnick said before launching into a very passionate lip-syncing performance. He pointed at Peeta and blew him a kiss as the chorus played.

"Please don't."

"But all I want for Christmas is you." At Peeta's blank stare, Finnick gave up. "Okay, a joke instead. What's the difference between snowmen and snowwomen?

"Snowballs?"

Finnick curled his lip in disgust. "You ruined it. You took the punch line."

"That one was kind of obvious." Peeta pushed his glass forward. "Can I get another?"

Finnick let out an exaggerated sigh before grabbing the empty glass. While Peeta was the only one sitting in front of the bar, the rest of the place was busy for a Wednesday night, although considering it was the day before Christmas Eve, it was hardly a surprise. College students had been arriving in droves the past week as schools let out for break, and the majority of the older crowd didn't have work the next morning.

After getting a pink slip back in June, Peeta woke up most mornings before dawn to work part-time at his family's bakery. His father had generously given him tomorrow off as it was a half-day and nearly all the special orders had been completed.

Peeta would have preferred going to work. At least it was a distraction from how utterly useless he felt.

Finnick set down a fresh drink. After taking a sip, Peeta grimaced. "Um, did you forget to add something?"

"Like what?"

"Like the Coke?"

"That's insulting. I've been bartending for five years, and you think I don't know how to make a basic Rum and Coke?"

Peeta just stared.

"I added Coke. I added a dollop of Coke."

"Can you maybe add a few more 'dollops'?" Peeta asked, making air quotes to emphasize Finnick's ridiculousness.

"Fine, but you're missing the entire point of this evening."

"Which is?"

"To get drunk and have fun! It's the end of the year. It's time for a new beginning!"

Peeta shook his head. He had been on twelve interviews at twelve high schools since June and had received exactly zero offers. The job market was tough, and the competition was fierce. It didn't look like something new would be beginning anytime soon. If he was lucky, maybe he'd get another tutoring job.

"We've got another week before New Year's. Let's get through Christmas first," Peeta said.

"Fine." Finnick sprayed a quick burst of Coke into the glass. When Peeta's frown remained, Finnick rolled his eyes and filled the cup to the brim. "Here's your watered down fun killer."

Peeta took a sip and gave his friend a thumbs up.

"Okay, I've got another one."

Peeta had only been here an hour, but Finnick was already on his sixth holiday-themed joke. While the jokes were lame, Peeta appreciated the amount of effort Finnick was putting into the pointless task of cheering him up.

"What do all the female reindeer do while Santa is busy working with the males on Christmas Eve?" Finnick asked.

"I don't know. What?"

"Go into town and blow a couple bucks."

Peeta couldn't help the burst of laughter that escaped him. Finnick was right. Sort of. Not about female reindeer, but about having fun. Tomorrow was going to suck, and the day after too, but tonight didn't have to. And maybe the new year really would usher in a new beginning.

Or maybe that was just the rum talking.

"Okay, one more," Finnick said, wiggling his eyebrows. "Why doesn't Santa have any kids?"

Peeta rolled his eyes. "Because he only comes once a—" He cut himself off as a gorgeous brunette approached the bar.

"Because he only comes once a year," she said.

At Peeta's horrified look, she continued, "It's okay. I've heard my share of dirty Christmas jokes."

"And it's down a chimney," Finnick added.

Heat crept up the back of Peeta's neck as he glared at Finnick. It was definitely much hotter than it had been a moment ago, and he was pretty sure his cheeks were the same color as Santa's suit.

"What?" Finnick demanded. "He only comes once a year and it's down a chimney. She didn't finish the joke." Finnick turned to the woman. "What can I get you?"

"Long Island Iced Tea."

Peeta swiveled on top of his barstool to face her. Snowflakes dotted her dark braid, but they were already melting in the warmth of the bar. A few droplets slid from her hairline down the side of her face. He had the strangest urge to reach out and wipe them away.

Thankfully, she did it herself, saving him from some extreme embarrassment.

"Sorry about that," Peeta said. "My friend loves Christmas and dirty jokes. He can't help but combine them."

"Your friend? You're friends with the bartender?"

"Not in the 'I'm here every night because I'm sad and lonely and have a drinking problem' way. More in the 'we were college roommates and still hang out all the time' way."

She nodded. "Got it."

"Here you go," Finnick said. "Eight dollars."

"Can I buy you your drink?" Peeta asked.

She narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

"Uh…" It had been forever since he had hit on a woman, but he remembered it being much easier in college. He rarely faced rejection, and he had never dealt with outright suspicion. "To be nice?"

"No, guys buy girls drinks because they think it'll obligate us to talk to them and maybe sleep with them. You're already talking to me. I'm not going to sleep with you. There's no need." She pulled out her wallet.

"Um, okay," Peeta said, a little annoyed at her reaction. It's not like he was expecting sex just because he purchased her a drink. Eight dollars plus tip seemed like an uneven trade for something like that.

Also, he wasn't an asshole, but maybe that wasn't as obvious as he hoped. He had been delivering the punch line to a raunchy joke as she walked up.

She handed her credit card to Finnick. He disappeared to the other end of the bar where the cash register was located.

"Are you here with someone?" Peeta asked.

"My roommate, Johanna," she said, tilting her head to indicate a woman with choppy black hair streaked with red. Johanna was currently sitting on some guy's lap, her tongue down his throat.

"Is that her boyfriend?"

The brunette rolled her eyes. "Nope, that's actually a new record. We've been here less than five minutes." She took a generous sip of her drink. "I guess the answer is no, I'm not here with anyone."

"If we don't count Finnick, and I don't because he's working, then I'm here alone too. And we've already established that I'm not allowed to buy you a drink or sleep with you. Now that the awkward stuff is out of the way, do you want to take a seat?"

Her mouth twisted into something resembling a smile as she stared down into her drink.

"Katniss," she said.

"What's that?"

"My name. Katniss."

She held out her hand. He grasped it, surprised at the sudden spark that shot up his arm.

Nope, tonight did not have to suck. At all.

"Peeta," he said, shaking her hand.

"Does your friend know any more jokes?" she asked, sitting on the adjacent barstool.

"Please don't encourage him."

()

Several drinks—and _eight _"All I Want for Christmas is You"'s—later, Finnick coerced the pair into trying a couple of Santa Shots. They were red and green and tasted like candy canes, and before Peeta knew it, he and Katniss had each downed three.

"Finnick, I know this is your job and all, but I think we need to slow it down," Peeta suggested. "Unless you want me to spread my holiday cheer all over the bar."

Katniss, cheeks flushed, her coat and scarf ditched long ago, peeled off her sweater.

"Having trouble keeping up?" she asked, adding her sweater to the pile accumulating on the nearest stool.

"Yes," Peeta said, one hundred percent not checking her out. He was very proud of himself for maintaining eye contact. "I am not ashamed to admit a girl can outdrink me, even if it's a tiny girl like yourself."

"Tiny?" Katniss echoed.

"Um, petite? Diminutive? Miniature?" His eyes wandered from the green bra strap peeking out to the silver chain that disappeared behind her tight black tank top. Some kind of magnetic force yanked his gaze down lower to her breasts where he lingered a few seconds too long.

Was he being obvious? He was being obvious. His reaction time was slowed way down. He refocused on her face, but then he started thinking about her lips and how soft they looked.

"You know a lot of synonyms, but not one of them is flattering," Katniss said. "And I'm 5'5". That's average."

"Sorry. It's the English teacher in me. Drunk English teacher, actually."

Katniss smiled, but she didn't laugh. While she had a beautiful smile, he had been unable to make her laugh all night. It was high on his to-do list, just under kissing her, although he doubted that would happen. Especially after her roommate had stopped over.

Johanna had left with her "new friend" a couple of hours earlier, but before disappearing, she had stopped at the bar to say goodbye and give advice: "Try to have some fun, Brainless. Blondie here looks like he'd be good in the sack."

Several seconds had passed before Peeta realized that the blonde in question was him and not the Thor-lookalike that had followed Johanna out the door.

Katniss had blushed, Peeta had sputtered, and Finnick had told another joke to alleviate the tension.

Thank god for Finnick. Mostly. Peeta was getting much drunker than he had intended, and it was completely Finnick's fault. Peeta knew he would not only have one hell of a headache in the morning but quite an expensive tab. He was trying to be careful with his money, especially after purchasing gifts for his family, but he was certain he had drunk half of his most recent paycheck.

"English teacher?" Katniss asked. "What grade?"

"No grade as of right now. Lost my job after budget cuts. Last one hired, first one fired."

"That's awful. I'm sorry."

"I'm tutoring and substituting here and there. I'll find something new soon," he said, regretting mentioning it at all. The past couple of hours had flown by in easy conversation, and he didn't want to bring up such a loaded, negative topic. "Should we do another shot?"

"You may each have just one more shot," Finnick announced in his best authoritative voice. "Last call."

"Already?" Katniss asked.

She pulled out her cell phone and frowned. Peeta recognized a change in her demeanor, although he wasn't sure what it was. Did she regret spending her entire night talking to him? He thought she had been enjoying herself, especially when he had launched into a rant about cheesy Hallmark movies. He didn't mention that before this year he used to enjoy them, but it had been fun when they started making up ones of their own. Her specialty was titles. His was weaving together plots that involved melodramatic love triangles and lost dogs. She hadn't laughed, but she had smirked and rolled her eyes, and told him he might want to pursue a new career path.

She could have left at any time. There had been no obligation to stay.

"It doesn't feel like it's almost two," she said.

"Elfin!" The word came out almost as a shout.

"What?" she asked.

"That's a good synonym, isn't it? It makes me think of mystical powerful warriors."

"It makes me think of pointy ears and Santa's workshop," she said. "But I guess it's better than miniature."

Finnick served them their final two shots for the evening. Katniss insisted they do it at the same time. She stood up, threw hers back with a tilt of her head, and without a warning, pulled Peeta into a kiss.

His world narrowed until there was only her warm mouth, her hand on his thigh, her fingers tangled in his hair. Finnick, the barstool, his frustration, even the ninth rendition of that god-awful Mariah Carey song faded to nothing as Katniss's tongue brushed against his lips.

He opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, but she abruptly pulled away and slipped her sweater on. Peeta swayed, nearly falling off his stool. The room was spinning, but he wasn't sure how much blame he could place on the alcohol. He watched her tie her scarf loosely around her neck and pull on her coat.

She had tasted like peppermint and vodka, and she had made the whole world stop, but she was leaving now, and he would have to return home to an empty apartment and a long night awake with his thoughts.

"Do you live near here?" she asked, buttoning up her coat.

The question startled him. Had she really said that? Or was he so drunk that he was hallucinating the question he most wanted to hear?

He played it safe and nodded.

"Do you want to show me where you live?"

This time he managed a simple: "Yes."

She took his hand and pulled him toward the exit. He followed without a backwards glance at Finnick, too distracted at the thought that soon enough he'd be removing the layers she had just pulled on, unwrapping her like a Christmas present.

()

The flurries from earlier had turned into a heavy snow during the hours Peeta had spent inside the bar. A cab idled beside the curb waiting for them. The driver said someone named Finnick had called ten minutes earlier and that the fare was taken care of.

Finnick was possibly the best wingman in the history of the universe.

Peeta gave the driver his address once he and Katniss were in the backseat. He worried that they would lapse into an awkward silence or that she would regret her brazen decision, but as soon as the car pulled away from the curb, her mouth was on his once more.

She snaked her hand between the buttons of his pea coat, laying her palm flat against his chest. He grazed her cheeks, icy from the brief time they were out in the cold. Already her skin was warming from the heat blasting in the car, the snowflakes melting, dripping down her face. He fulfilled his earlier urge and wiped them away.

The cab driver loudly explained his policy on charging for stains. Peeta barely heard him.

After the cab dropped them off in front of Peeta's apartment building, Katniss fell into step behind him. Her footsteps were almost soundless, and she kept her hands to herself. Peeta kept glancing over his shoulder to make sure she hadn't run off.

He knew he was very close to overanalyzing this situation, saying something stupid, and ruining the whole night. As they climbed the two flights of stairs that led to his apartment, he decided to shut his brain off. He would not think or hope or plan. Tonight would unfold organically, and if that meant Katniss finding her way into his bed, then good. (Actually, great. Amazing. Perfect.) And if not, if they just sat on his couch and talked for another couple of hours, then it would still be a wonderful night.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Katniss had him pressed against it, her hands unbuttoning his coat and roaming the planes of his stomach as soon as his coat hit the ground.

"Be careful," he said as she kissed his neck. "That's my favorite coat."

She laughed—finally, actually laughed!—and slipped off her jacket, throwing it on top of his.

"Are you going to give me a tour?" she asked.

"Of course," he said. "This is my apartment." He waved his arms with a flourish before sitting down. "And this is my couch."

She climbed onto his lap, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and pulled his head back. She looked down at him, her lips twisted into a coy smile, and rocked her hips against him. He bit back a groan.

"That was a great tour," she said.

And then there were no more words, no more jokes, just her tongue in his mouth, her fingers raking through his hair, and her hips—oh god, her hips. He no longer kept quiet as she grinded against him. His moaning only encouraged her as she ripped off her sweater and threw it over her shoulder.

His shirt and her tank followed soon after. Her skin was hot against his, like a fire burning through his chest. She kissed a trail down his neck and ran her tongue across his collarbone. He unhooked her bra with one hand—the other too preoccupied with cupping her ass—and she broke contact long enough to pull the straps down her arms.

He stared at her breasts, relieved he had turned off his brain. Otherwise, he would have said something stupid like wow or thank you. This was not the first pair of breasts he had seen. What was wrong with him?

"Don't gawk," she teased. "It's rude."

He kissed the hollow of her throat, the freckles that dotted her shoulders, the space between her breasts. When he finally took her nipple into his mouth, she gasped and arched her back, her silver chain hitting him in the face.

She pulled away. "Sorry."

"Do you want to take it off?" he asked.

He felt the change in her as much as he saw it. It was like a wall going up, the heat disappearing from her body. He wanted to take a step backward not just to resume kissing but also to return her to her formerly happy state. She looked sad all of a sudden and a little lost.

"You don't have to," he said quietly.

"Can you undo it?" She leaned into his chest and brushed her braid out of the way.

He tried to ignore how good her breasts felt pressed against his chest and focus on finding the clasp in the dark. His chin rested on her shoulder as he squinted, examining the chain. He undid the clasp and handed her the necklace.

"Thank you," she said, placing it carefully on the coffee table behind her.

She stared at him for a moment, half-naked and gorgeous but surprisingly sad. He wouldn't mind stopping here if she would allow him to hold her close and try to bring her smile back.

"Kind," she said, running a finger along his jawline. "Friendly. Charming. Sweet."

It took him a moment to realize she was listing synonyms just as he had done back at the bar. He liked her words much more than the ones he had come up with.

"Funny. Handsome. Strong."

"Those last three aren't synonyms," he said.

"Shut up." She kissed him again, this time slowly and carefully. There was no fever in her touch, but a different kind of intimacy instead. He felt an explanation in her kiss, an apology. He pulled her closer, tasted the compliments on her tongue. He wanted to remember her words, this moment, no matter what happened next.

"Can we finish the tour now?" she mumbled into his ear.

His head spun. All of his blood had rushed south, and the alcohol was clouding his vision, and she was so impossibly beautiful and strange. She was a mystery to be solved, a map to be followed.

But she was also just a woman, he reminded himself. And she seemed to want him as much as he wanted her.

"The alcohol is messing with my head. I can't seem to remember where I left the bedroom," he said.

She laughed again. It was a wonder she hadn't been laughing the whole night, the way she gave them up so easily now.

"Who said anything about the bedroom? That's awfully presumptuous of you."

She stood and held out her hand. He pressed his lips against her wrist, and she stared at him as if trying to work out a puzzle.

"I thought you weren't going to sleep with me," he teased.

"Don't get cocky," she warned. "I could still leave."

He didn't doubt her. She seemed like the type of woman who would walk out half-dressed, no matter how turned on she was, just to prove a point. He kind of liked that about her.

"I'll just finish the tour myself," she said with a sigh. She was halfway down the hall before he grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder.

She let out a yell of surprise. He charged into the bedroom and dropped her onto the bed. He watched her breasts bounce as she landed, listened to her musical laughter as she held out a hand in invitation, and then the apartment fell quiet as he lowered himself on top of her and found her lips once more.

()

A thump and a muffled "shit" woke Peeta up. He opened his eyes and let out a groan. His head was pounding and his mouth was dry, but a surge of happiness ran through him. He was not used to waking up in such a good mood.

He sat up and found Katniss, clad only in jeans, attempting to slip on her boots.

The night before came flooding back, and Peeta was not disappointed with the burst of memories.

"Hey," Peeta said.

"Um, hey," Katniss said, wrapping an arm around her chest.

"Can I make you some breakfast?"

"No, no. That's not necessary."

She approached his side of the bed, cast a glance at the floor, and frowned. She turned and searched the floor behind her.

"I think everything is in the living room," Peeta said.

"Right. Thanks," Katniss said, unable to meet his eyes. He thought he saw a blush heating up her cheeks, but her hair, no longer in a braid, covered her face.

He slid his jeans on before following her into the living room. She already wore her bra and tank and was searching for her sweater.

"You don't have to go so fast," Peeta said.

"I do. I really do. I'm sorry." She looked regretful, but it dawned on Peeta that it wasn't her quick getaway that was making her frown. It was that she had been caught in the act.

He didn't exactly have an extensive history of one-night stands. He had never actually had one. He didn't like the idea of using someone for a night even if the intention was mutual. And he sure as hell wasn't going to start now, especially when he had had such a great time with Katniss. Despite being almost strangers, they had laughed and teased each other throughout the night, reaching the kind of intimacy that usually took several months. Feeling desire was one thing, but not worrying about looking like a fool in front of another person was something else entirely.

He was comfortable with her. He wanted to make her breakfast and serve it in bed. He wanted a quiet morning of her voice in his ear, her head on his chest.

Peeta grabbed her hands. "Hey," he said. "I had fun last night."

"Me too." But she still wouldn't meet his eyes. She sidestepped him, and he let her hands fall from his. "I really have to go though. Um, Merry Christmas."

She scooped up her sweater and coat and was out the door before he could respond. He sighed. As predicted, today was well on its way to sucking, and tonight would only be worse.

Because it was Christmas Eve. And that meant going home.

()

Peeta adjusted his tie even though it was mostly hidden underneath his sweater. It was way too hot in the house, especially with the fire going, but his mother had to have her picture perfect Christmas, and that included her three sons dressed to her exact specifications. After spending his entire childhood trying and failing to please his mother, Peeta no longer put in much effort, but wearing a tie on Christmas Eve was preferable to the fight not wearing one would start.

And no matter how small the argument began, his mother always managed to blow it up until she had used every synonym imaginable for the words "disappointment" and "failure," which was why Peeta rarely visited despite living only twenty minutes away.

His older brother Tyler was in the kitchen helping his mother prepare dinner. While Peeta couldn't make out what they were saying, he could hear the soft tone of his mother's voice. Tyler's wife Emily was upstairs breastfeeding their six-month-old daughter, Hannah, and when she eventually reappeared, Peeta's mother would transform into someone else. Someone maternal and warm. Someone Peeta didn't recognize.

Peeta fiddled with his phone, ignoring the Hallmark Christmas movie on television. It had something to do with firemen and cats and would likely end with the two main characters making out and wishing each other a Merry Christmas. Picture perfect bullshit ending.

Peeta's phone buzzed.

Finnick (4:07pm): So…did u have a good night?

Peeta (4:07pm): No.

Katniss's silver chain was burning a hole in his pocket. He had been surprised she had left it behind considering how important it seemed to he. He didn't know why he brought it with him tonight. As soon as he had picked it up in the daylight, he realized it was a locket, but he hadn't looked inside. It felt too much like an invasion of privacy.

Finnick (4:09pm): what happened? You scare her off with all your charm and goodlookingness?

Peeta (4:11pm): That's not a word.

Finnick (4:14pm): you've got quite a tab waiting for u next time you're in. you're lucky I'm currently dating the owner's daughter or you'd be in quite a bit of trouble

The doorbell rang.

"Must be Rye," Peeta said, referring to his younger brother. "I'll get it."

Peeta texted a quick "gotta go" to Finnick and stood up to answer the door. His father nodded his thanks.

Except it wasn't Rye. When Peeta swung open the door, the very last person he expected to find on the porch was Katniss.

How did she know where he'd be? Had she contacted Finnick? Was she here to talk or just to get her necklace back?

"Hi," Peeta said, confused but delighted at her presence.

Katniss's eyes widened in surprise, and a moment later, her face transformed into a look of horror.

"Oh," she said. "Oh, shit."

Before Peeta could respond to this less than stellar greeting, Rye came running up the path with a six-pack in his hand.

"Sorry! Forgot the alcohol in the car, and trust me, we're going to need it to get through tonight." He stopped beside Katniss and slipped an arm around her waist.

"Peeta, I'd like for you to meet my girlfriend, Katniss. Katniss, this is my brother, Peeta."

Oh. In that case, Katniss's reaction had been spot on. This wasn't good. This was, actually, awful and terrible and about a thousand other variations of fucked up.

"Um, Peet, are you going to let us inside? It's pretty cold out here."

"What? Yeah. Come in." He avoided looking at Katniss as they walked past, but he caught the scent of her perfume. Heat rushed through him as images from last night danced through his head.

Her hasty exit this morning suddenly made a lot more sense. Guilt over cheating on Rye had sent her rushing out of Peeta's apartment.

Poor Rye. Poor perpetually single Rye. He had finally found a steady girlfriend, and she wasn't faithful. Who knew if Peeta was even the first?

He ignored the desire her presence had stirred up and glared at her. He was furious that just because she didn't know how to be faithful, he was now the bad guy too. Whether he had known who she was or not, he felt as if he had betrayed Rye.

"You know, all this talk about her, and you never once mentioned her name," Peeta said. "It's such a unique name too. Not one you'd easily forget."

"Uh, sorry," Rye said. "You know it now."

"It's so nice to meet you, Katniss," Mr. Mellark said, shaking her hand. "We've heard wonderful things about you."

"It's nice to meet you too," she mumbled, face red. At least she looked ashamed.

"Rye!" Delly squeaked as she trotted down the stairs. She hugged him tightly before taking her place at Peeta's side. She reached out her hand toward Katniss. "It's so wonderful to finally meet you!" Delly exclaimed. "I'm Delly Cartwright, Peeta's fiancée."

Now it was Peeta's turned to look horrified while Katniss glared.

"It's nice to meet you," Katniss said with false cheer.

Yeah, he had been absolutely right this morning. Tonight was going to suck so, so much.


	2. Chapter 2

When faced with the option of leading Katniss into the kitchen to meet his mother and older brother or going upstairs to introduce her to his infinitely kinder sister-in-law, Rye went with the obvious option.

"You have to come down sooner or later," Mr. Mellark said. "You're stuck here until tomorrow afternoon."

Rye scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, about that..."

"Don't even try it," Mr. Mellark said. "Unless you really want to upset your mother. We spend every Christmas morning together."

"But Katniss and I—"

His father cut him off with an upheld hand. "Where are your overnight bags?"

Rye let out an exaggerated sigh. "They're in the car."

"Perfect. Rye, you'll be in your old room with Peeta. Katniss, why don't you share the guest bedroom with Delly?"

Twin shouts of "No!" jumped out of Katniss's and Peeta's mouths much to the alarm of the others.

"I'm just…I don't even know Delly," Katniss said, kind enough to at least smile in the blonde's direction. "Doesn't Peeta have a room?"

"Yeah, that would be the guest bedroom," Peeta said.

When Peeta came home during his Thanksgiving break freshman year, he found his bedroom stripped of all his belongings. New furniture and generic decorations had taken the place of his twin bed and worn dresser. Even the paintings he hung up as a timeline of his developing talent from age four to eighteen were gone.

His old furniture had been donated. His belongings had been boxed and moved into the attic. He was certain his paintings had only been spared from the trash thanks to Rye.

During extended breaks from school, he slept on an air mattress on the floor of Rye's room, even when the guest bedroom was empty because, according to his mother, "You never know when company might show up."

Peeta never once visited home on the weekends. He moved into an apartment his junior year, so he'd never have to return home. His only required overnight stay was Christmas Eve.

"I'll take the couch," Katniss offered.

"Are you sure?" Mr. Mellark asked. "We want you to be comfortable here."

"It's no problem. I would be more comfortable sleeping by myself." She smiled once again at Delly but failed to make eye contact.

"Alright, let me introduce you to the only remaining sane person in the family." Rye took Katniss's hand and led her up the stairs.

Once they were out of earshot, Delly turned to Peeta. "She seems nice."

"You think everyone seems nice," he replied.

It wasn't that Delly was entirely naïve. She recognized bad traits, but it took her a little longer than most people. She saw the good in everyone, even if she had to look really, really closely.

"You don't think she's nice? I guess she doesn't seem like Rye's type…"

Peeta stiffened. "What do you mean? What's wrong with her?" The words were out of his mouth before he realized what an idiot he was being. A second ago he was brushing off Delly's praise. Now he was prepared to defend Katniss against any criticism.

Delly tilted her head to the side and frowned. "Uh, nothing. Like I said, she seems nice. I just always thought that Rye…well, never mind what I thought. He seems happy."

"I'm going to go put these in the fridge," Mr. Mellark said, indicating the six-pack of Strongbow he had taken from Rye. "I'll try to prepare your mother while I'm in there."

Peeta swiped a bottle and twisted off the cap. "Prepare her how?"

"Compliment her cooking. Thank her for her hard work. Say nice things about Katniss in her general vicinity. Repeat until she kicks me out of the kitchen."

Peeta rolled his eyes. "Good luck with that."

"You know how your mother gets this time of year."

Peeta took a long pull of his drink to stop himself from commenting. His mother was a nightmare year round, a demanding, insufferable nightmare. She expected nothing less than perfection, and so far, only Tyler had managed to meet her high standards.

No one ever helped her, she claimed. Everything was left up to her. What had she done to deserve such a horrible, ungrateful family? What didn't anyone appreciate her?

And on and on and on. The holidays only exacerbated these traits.

"Peeta, can I talk to you?" Delly asked once Mr. Mellark left.

"Of course." Peeta followed her to the couch. They sat down, leaving a few inches of space between them.

"My work Christmas party was a couple of nights ago," Delly said.

"Was it fun?"

"Yes. Really fun. During the party, I...well, you see…"

"Delly? It's okay. You can tell me. Whatever it is."

"Thom asked me out!" Her cheeks flushed crimson and she looked away, eyes locked on the floor.

Peeta inhaled sharply. He hadn't realized it was possible to feel so happy and devastated at the same time. He had first met Thom when he had to pick Delly up from work when her car was in the shop. She had kept him waiting an extra five minutes as she wrapped up her conversation with Thom in the parking lot. Peeta had been more sad than annoyed as he watched Delly laugh and touch Thom's arm. It had been months since Peeta had made her laugh like that. Longer since they had flirted.

"And you said…" Peeta prompted.

"Yes. I said yes." She looked back at Peeta and bit her lip. "Is this too fast? I feel like it's too fast. I won't go if you don't want me to."

"Delly, it's fine. No, it's better than fine. I'm happy for you."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

She pulled him into a tight hug, and it was a relief. The last time she had hugged him was the day after Thanksgiving, right after she had handed him her copy of the key but before she had walked out with her suitcase. He had been terrified that that would be the last meaningful contact they had, that they would become strangers, only coming together to put on one final act for their families.

He had known her practically his whole life. The summer before first grade, less than ten minutes after a moving truck had pulled in next door, Delly had appeared on his doorstep in a bright yellow dress and requested he send his sisters out to play. When he revealed it was a family of three brothers, she shrugged and invited him out instead. She forced him to play tea party in the front yard while the movers sidestepped them, their arms overloaded with boxes. Peeta hadn't been a huge fan of the tea party, but he had liked Delly. And more importantly, she seemed to genuinely like him too.

Peeta loved her, but he didn't—couldn't—love her the way she deserved. She wouldn't have been able to reciprocate the feelings even if he had. Their whole relationship had been a confused mistake, a stupid drunken night blown out of proportion by their meddling mothers. Peeta asked Delly out to confirm there was nothing more than friendship between them, but one date somehow turned into five dates and suddenly, they were moving in together. Even as they fought and drifted apart, both unable to offer what the other one needed, pressure from their mothers kept them hurtling forward toward an inevitable disaster.

Ten months after they began dating, Peeta lost his job and blew his severance package on an engagement ring. He knew he'd never make her happy, but he couldn't stand facing one more failure. He would turn twenty-seven next year, but he felt further from his goals than he did when he graduated college. He wanted a career and a family. He wanted some sense of fulfillment.

He wanted his mother's nagging voice out his head, telling him that no one would ever love a fuck-up like him.

While he didn't regret Delly moving on, he did regret losing what she represented. She had been the last semblance of structure in his life. Now she was one last goal he didn't complete. One last failure.

But it would be worth it, he decided, if she kept him updated on her life. About work or this guy or what movie she had seen and loved. At this point, he just wanted his best friend back.

Hell, he'd play tea party again if it returned them to normalcy.

They had agreed they wouldn't tell their families until after the holidays. Preferably over the phone. Neither one wanted a lecture from an overbearing mother. While Peeta's would blame him and rant about his many perceived failures, Delly's would stress about her age (which was 26) and her appearance (only fifteen pounds overweight) and how she needed to get serious about her future.

No thanks.

"I feel kind of bad about lying to Rye," Delly said, glancing at the stairs. "He's always been our partner in crime."

"We just need to get through the next twenty-four hours, and then we can tell him."

"Okay," Delly said softly. "Dinner with your parents, dinner with my parents, and then we never show our faces again."

Peeta laughed. "Something like that."

"Thank you, Peeta. Really. I've been feeling so excited but so terrible since the party. It was making me crazy."

He briefly considered telling her about Katniss, but he didn't want to make it look like a competition. He really was happy that she had a date. Maybe this would appease her mother when Delly finally had to deliver the news. Besides, revealing anything about his night with Katniss would just add another burden on Delly's shoulders. She would hate to keep such a terrible secret from Rye.

"Now you can just feel excited," Peeta said. "I'm excited for you."

"I hope…I really hope we can go back to the way things were one day. When we were just friends."

"I really want that too." He grasped her hand, and he felt like that seven-year-old kid again, excited over a kind girl who had chosen him. He'd never stop being grateful toward her for giving him that feeling of acceptance. "I miss you."

Delly's grin was so wide and genuine, he couldn't help but mirror it. She swept him into a hug once more.

"Ugh, get a room."

The pair startled apart to find Rye at the bottom of the stairs, a look of mock disgust on his face. Katniss stood on the bottom step, her scowl peeking out over Rye's shoulder. A thrill ran through Peeta at the thought she might be jealous.

He decided he was being ridiculous and ignored the thrill in favor of focusing on his anger.

"Have fun in the kitchen," Peeta said unkindly.

Delly swatted his arm. "Good luck!"

Less than a minute after Rye and Katniss disappeared into the kitchen, Tyler and Mr. Mellark exited and went upstairs.

A moment later, Rye emerged, wringing his hands. "Mom sent Dad and Tyler to set up the air mattress."

"Okay," said Peeta.

"And I'm supposed to go into the basement and locate the angel for the top of the tree."

Peeta glanced at the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room and confirmed an angel with gold wings already stood at the top. He looked back at Rye and raised an eyebrow.

"She wants the one with the blue dress. The winter angel or whatever."

"Peeta broke that one a couple of years ago," Delly said. "I remember because she wouldn't. Stop. Complaining."

Peeta held back a laugh. Delly was kind and optimistic, but after years of searching for the good in Mrs. Mellark, she had come up empty. Peeta's mother was possibly the only person on Earth that Delly could not stand.

"Yes. It's broken. It's gone to trash heaven. But I'll have to pretend to look for at least ten minutes while she interrogates Katniss."

"She'll be fine," Peeta said. "She looks like the kind of girl who can handle herself."

"Please," Rye said. "You need to go in there and keep an eye on things."

"Me?" Peeta echoed. "I seriously doubt my presence will help matters. I'm not taking the bullet for your new girlfriend."

"Decorate the cupcakes Dad made. The frosting's in the fridge. You're the only one with a reason for being in there." When Peeta didn't move, Rye grabbed his hand and tugged him to his feet. "Please, Peet. Just hover nearby. Intervene if Mom gets too harsh."

Delly nudged him and shot him a stern look. Well, as stern as Delly could manage. Peeta sighed and slipped into the kitchen. Katniss leaned against a counter, arms crossed at her chest.

Clearly things were going well.

"So it's not serious then?" Mrs. Mellark asked. She stood behind the island in the middle of the room, her back straight, a sharp knife in hand. Her mouth was a thin line, a disappointed queen surveying her disappointing kingdom.

Katniss stared at Peeta as he pulled the tubes of frosting out of the refrigerator.

"Serious enough," Katniss said.

"What are you doing?" Mrs. Mellark demanded.

Peeta set the frosting down in front of the cooling cupcakes.

"Dad asked me to get dessert ready."

"You can do that later. I'm having a conversation with your brother's friend."

Peeta rolled his eyes at his mother's rudeness. She couldn't even say the word girlfriend? Or Katniss's name?

"I'm not here to stop you. Just pretend I'm not here. You're good at that."

His mother slammed her knife into the head of lettuce, slicing it into two. Peeta winced. It was an involuntary reaction, and it pissed him off. He flicked off the cap of the white icing and set to work making a snowman. His anger made his work sloppy, so he decided the lopsided snowman could be his mother's.

It was petty but it made him feel slightly better.

"Did you meet Rye at school?" Mrs. Mellark asked.

"At Panem U? No, I attend the community college down the street."

"Hmm." Ah, Mrs. Mellark's favorite noise, a sign of displeasure and judgment. It was the soundtrack to Peeta's childhood. "Your parents must be proud."

"They're dead, actually."

Peeta's head shot up. Katniss stared straight ahead, her right hand clenched over the dip of her V-neck sweater, fingers searching for a silver chain that wasn't there.

"But yes," Katniss continued, "I think they would be proud that I manage to take a full course load while working forty hours a week."

Peeta remembered everything Katniss had told him last night, including her favorite color (green) and favorite comfort food (lamb stew), but she hadn't said a word about her parents. She had a sister though, Primrose, who had graduated from college in May.

Mrs. Mellark paused in her butchering of the lettuce and gave Katniss a onceover. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-six," Katniss replied. "How old are you?"

Peeta bit back a laugh as he carefully created a Santa hat out of red and white frosting.

His mother laid her knife on the cutting board and glared at Katniss. "That's not an appropriate question. I was merely wondering why Rye isn't with someone his own age."

"I'm only five years older."

"Yes, five years older and struggling through community college. You should have a career by now."

Katniss pushed herself away from the counter to stand directly in front of the island. Peeta couldn't see her expression, but he noticed her clenched fists. "I don't remember mentioning a struggle. I have a 3.8 GPA. Should I provide my most recent transcript for you to look over?"

"Look, _Katniss_, you are the first girl my son has brought home, and I was expecting someone a little more…impressive."

"Yeah, well, you haven't exactly dazzled me either."

Peeta would not laugh. He would not make the situation worse. He set the tube of frosting down and cupped a hand over his ear.

"Do you hear that?" Peeta asked. "That sounds like Rye. He's calling for you, Katniss. He's literally begging you to leave the kitchen and come help him."

"I don't hear anything," Mrs. Mellark snapped.

"That's probably just your age," Peeta said.

"Excuse me?"

He ignored his mother and held the door open for Katniss. He let it swing shut on whatever rude comment his mother was in the midst of making.

"You didn't have to do that," Katniss said, turning to face him.

The living room was empty. Everyone was completing his assigned task somewhere in the house. Delly was probably in the basement, keeping Rye company until enough time passed.

"I can handle myself around people like that."

"I know," Peeta said. "But I figured we should at least get through dinner first. The fisticuffs can resume after we eat."

"Fisticuffs?" Katniss echoed, sounding more amused than angry. "You think it'll come to that?"

"You never know with my mother."

Katniss smirked and looked down at her boots. "I probably should have been a little more patient. Rye _is_ her son, and this _is_ her house, and I was pretty…"

"Rude?" Peeta supplied. "Snarky?"

"Yeah, yeah, thanks." She gave his ankle a light kick, and he was transported back to last night, to her teasing smile, her musical laughter, and the pretty words she had gifted him on the couch. He had wanted to stretch that moment out, live in it for as long as he could. And he had managed it until she had left so abruptly this morning.

And then appeared on his doorstep.

"I'm just not used to the whole meeting the parents thing," Katniss said.

"I can imagine," he agreed without thinking.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Her earlier smile vanished. Her arms were back to being crossed at her chest, and he could feel the strength of the wall she had thrown up.

"I just meant…I could tell you don't do the meet-the-parents thing a lot." Shit. Still not the right thing to say. As she narrowed his eyes, he felt a burst of anger in his chest and he clung to it, unsure of what else to do. He wasn't going to allow her of all people to make him feel guilty.

"And how can you tell exactly?" she demanded.

"Based on last night, I can assume you don't really do commitment."

"Seriously?" She took a step forward, invading his personal space. His gaze dropped to her lips and back up again. Desire mixed with anger, but he wouldn't let that happen. Not again.

"I spend one night with you, and now I'm a slut?" Katniss demanded, her voice low.

"First of all, I didn't say…that," Peeta said, dropping his voice to a harsh whisper.

"You're doing a real nice dance around the word."

"And second, I'm basing my opinion on the fact that you had a one-night-stand while dating my brother," Peeta said. "We were together for hours and you didn't mention a boyfriend once."

"Oh, that's right," Katniss sneered, poking him in the chest. "I guess I should apologize to the guy with a fiancée."

Peeta squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't argue with that, not without revealing the truth about him and Delly. And he didn't want to give up that secret yet. Let her think he was a bad guy too as long as it drove her crazy.

"You're not good enough for my brother," Peeta said. "You need to tell him the truth or just break up with him."

"And what about Delly?" Katniss demanded. "She seems way too sweet to put up with your bullshit."

"Leave her out of this," Peeta snapped. "This is about Rye. He's a really good guy, and you're the first girl he's ever brought home, and—"

She cut him off with a fierce kiss, her fingers digging into his shoulder blades as she forced him closer. He knew it was wrong, knew that he no longer had the excuse of ignorance, but his body betrayed him. He wrapped his arms around her and disappeared, lost in the scent of her perfume and the taste of her mouth.

Peppermint. Of course.

She pulled away as abruptly as she did the night before at the bar. He was practically panting as he stared at her mouth, the rise and fall of her chest. For a moment, he forgot about Rye and the rest of his family, and thought only of finding a room with a door that locked, just to secure a few more moments alone.

"You're an asshole," Katniss said. "And an oblivious one at that. I want my necklace back, and then I never want to speak to you again."

She tried to storm off, but he caught her arm before she reached the hallway. He spun her around and pulled her flush against him. He slipped her necklace out of his pocket and around her neck. Leaning over her shoulder, his chin brushing the side of her face, he fastened the clasp.

"There," he said, taking a step back. "I guess we're done now."

She studied him for a moment, but he couldn't read her expression, couldn't tell what she was thinking. Without another word, she turned away.

This time he let her disappear, down the hall, down the stairs to the basement, down to his brother and Delly. This wasn't the same girl who had said pretty things on his couch, the same girl he had thrown over his shoulder, and laughed with when he struggled to rip open the condom wrapper.

But somehow, despite everything, he still wanted her, the girl from last night, the girl fucking with his head right now, whoever she really was.

He covered his face and groaned, hating himself.

* * *

><p>Dinner, while tense, was mostly uneventful. Mrs. Mellark ignored Katniss's existence entirely, focusing instead on Tyler and Emily's fairy tale marriage and perfect baby.<p>

It wasn't until after the dishes were cleared and Peeta was bringing the cupcakes into the dining room that Mrs. Mellark remembered her other children.

"Rye, how did you and your friend meet?"

Rye startled as if he hadn't expected to be called on. His questions were usually simple (grades, goals, girlfriend), but now that he finally had a girlfriend by his side, he had much more to answer for.

"Mutual friends," Katniss said. "They set us up."

"Really. Someone talked to Rye and decided you would be a good match for him?"

"Mom," Rye warned. "You hardly know her."

"Well, she's hardly talked," Mrs. Mellark said.

"It's hard to get a word in when you're falling all over yourself to compliment Tyler," Peeta said, passing out the cupcakes.

Emily hid her smile behind her hand, fully aware of the hierarchy of favoritism that existed in the family. She swore Tyler was a normal, kind human being outside of his childhood home, and that he only turned into an insufferable, arrogant idiot when he was around his mother.

Peeta made sure his mother got the lopsided snowman (small victories) and gave Katniss the one he had specifically decorated for her after she had stormed off. Everyone else received random selections.

"Uh, Peet? What's up with Katniss's cupcake? It's not all that Christmas-y," Rye said.

Katniss stared down at the yellow flower, carefully crafted out of frosting. Peeta would have preferred to use fondant, but he hadn't had the luxury of time.

"It's a primrose," Katniss said. She dipped a fingertip in the frosting before bringing it to her lips. Peeta watched, transfixed, wondering if later she would taste sugary sweet or if the cool burn of peppermint would linger. "Thank you. It's beautiful."

"A primrose?" Rye echoed.

"My sister," Katniss mumbled, leaning close to Rye's ear.

"Oh," Rye said. "I, uh, forgot."

Peeta was surprised by Rye's lack of knowledge, but then he remembered that Katniss hadn't seemed to know his name beforehand either. While they hadn't exchanged last names, he couldn't imagine there was a plethora of Peetas walking around.

By his estimate, Rye and Katniss had only been dating a couple of months, but surely their families had come up? At some point? Even in a 'they-are-the-worst-let's-not-talk-about-them' way? Maybe they weren't as serious as Peeta thought.

"What are you studying in school?" Mrs. Mellark asked, not about to let a plate full of pastries distract her from her interrogation.

Katniss glanced up at Peeta. He remembered the answer, and he knew what his mother would say. He mouthed the word 'fisticuffs.' She smiled and shook her head, as if shaking off Peeta's kindness.

"Physical therapy."

"You're going to be a doctor?"

"No, I'm in the two year Physical Therapy Assistant program. It's really—"

"Hmm." Mrs. Mellark cut her off. "Settling for an associate's degree. Any reason you're not pursuing your doctorate?"

"Honey, why don't you stop grilling Katniss and eat your dessert?" Mr. Mellark said.

Mrs. Mellark glared at her husband. "I'm not grilling—"

"You've had a long day getting everything ready. You need to relax and eat something delicious."

"Something delicious?" Mrs. Mellark said. "Are you telling me this is the first delicious piece of food I'm putting in my mouth today? Was my cooking not up to your five star standards?"

Peeta couldn't be sure, but it appeared as if everyone around the table—with the exception of his mother and Tyler—rolled their eyes at the same time.

"Let's take dessert in the living room," Peeta said.

They all stood up at once, although Emily had to yank Tyler to his feet. Mrs. Mellark remained behind, glaring at her plate. As Peeta exited the kitchen, he heard her mutter, "And not even a thank you for all my hard work."

The door swung shut behind him.

* * *

><p>A few hours later, the house was dark and quiet as everyone settled into bed. Peeta's father had finally replaced the old twin air mattress with a brand new queen sized one, but it still took Peeta several minutes to get comfortable.<p>

"Hey, Peet?"

Peeta froze, worried his constant rustling was keeping Rye awake.

"Do you want me to take the air mattress?"

Ugh. Peeta felt terrible. Awful. Beyond guilty. He had slept with Rye's girlfriend, unknowingly, but then he had kissed her with full awareness, and later tried to cheer her up with a cupcake. Meanwhile, Rye was concerned about Peeta's comfort.

Peeta was possibly the worst brother ever. Worse than Tyler, even, and that was saying something.

"I'm fine," Peeta said.

"Are you sure? I always get the bed."

"It's your bed," Peeta reminded him.

"I guess."

The room fell quiet, and Peeta carefully adjusted himself one last time. He deserved to sleep on an uncomfortable air mattress. He deserved the saggy one that he barely fit on. On second thought, he deserved the floor.

"We tell each other everything, right?" Rye asked.

Guilt was a snake, twisting and slithering inside Peeta's stomach. He couldn't see his brother's face from where he lay in bed, and he preferred it that way. Any night before this one, he would have sat up, turned to Rye, and asked him what was wrong. Now he couldn't bear to hear his brother's next words.

"Peet?"

"Yeah, everything."

"I feel so bad about lying to you. Delly, too. I just didn't know what else to do."

"Lie?" Peeta asked the ceiling. "What are you talking about?"

"Mom just wouldn't let up on Thanksgiving about how I never brought a girl home. Tyler's married, you're engaged, and I'm the forever alone guy."

Rye paused, but Peeta didn't dare fill the silence.

"I made her up," Rye said quietly.

"Made who up?"

"The girlfriend. My girlfriend," Rye explained. "I told Mom I was seeing someone to shut her up. And then when Mom insisted I bring her home for Christmas, I panicked."

Now Peeta did sit up to stare at his brother. Rye's hands covered his face.

"When I told my, um, my friend about my predicament, he suggested I take one of his friends home and pretend. He grew up with Katniss, and he knew she was going to be alone for Christmas, so he suggested—"

"You're not dating Katniss?"

Rye propped himself up on his elbows. "I'm trying to make a serious confession to you, and you're just jumping right in."

"You're not dating Katniss?" Peeta repeated.

"No, I barely know her. I've only hung out with her a few times before this, and it's always been in a group. She's really nice for doing this, especially for putting up with Mom, and…"

Rye's voice faded out. Peeta could no longer hear him over the shouting going on in his head.

Rye and Katniss weren't together!

Rye and Katniss had _never_ been together!

Last night, Peeta and Katniss had slept together as two consenting, romantically unattached adults.

"So you're not interested in her? At all?" Peeta asked, interrupting whatever Rye had been saying. Peeta had to make sure.

Rye grinned. "Not in the slightest. Do you have the hots for her or something? I mean, what was up with that cupcake?"

Without bothering to respond, Peeta left Rye's room and crept down the stairs. He had to talk to Katniss.

Now.


End file.
